


Stress Smoker

by emilywritesfics



Series: Tumblr Prompts [12]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Smoking, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 20:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4801523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilywritesfics/pseuds/emilywritesfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke wasn’t addicted to smoking. She wasn’t. She was a stress smoker who just happened to be stressed most of the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stress Smoker

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous: Promise me it's the last time bellarke prompt

Clarke wasn’t addicted to smoking. She wasn’t. She was a stress smoker who just happened to be stressed most of the time. It came along with being a med student. She could quit anytime she wanted, which was why having one more cigarette wouldn’t hurt.

She had promised Bellamy she would stop. Clarke knew that her smoking was one of the only things Bellamy truly hated. Since she loved Bellamy and wasn’t addicted to smoking, she would be fine.

She had had a terrible day. She had been awake since three, forgotten about a test, and her lab partner hadn’t shown up. Bellamy would understand.

Just lighting up the cigarette made her feel better, and after a while, she felt fine again. On her way home, she chewed a piece of gum and sprayed herself with perfume.

She took the elevator up to the sixth floor, and walked down the hall to the apartment she shared with Bellamy.

“Hey,” she called walking in. It smelled like stir fry, and Clarke was starving. She made her way into the kitchen.

“Hey,” Bellamy said, “did you get held up?” He turned to her as she walked into the kitchen. His face fell as he smelled the smoke that clung to her scrubs. “I thought you said you’d stop?” He said.

“I had a really bad day,” Clarke tried to explain, “you can’t blame me for that.”

“You’re going to have bad days, Clarke,” Bellamy said, “you can’t solve your problems by smoking.”

“I know,” Clarke admitted. She tried to sit herself on the counter beside the oven, but Bellamy stopped her.

“Can you go change?” he asked.

“Oh, sure,” Clarke said.

She went to their room and changed into her pajamas. She knew she still smelled like smoke, but now it wouldn’t be as bad. When she got back to the kitchen, Bellamy was pouring the stir fry onto two plates. He looked up at her when she walked in. There was silence for a moment.

“You are trying to stop, right?” He asked. The way he said it almost broke Clarke’s heart. He sounded so desperate, like maybe she valued smoking more than him.

“Of course,” Clarke said, “I’ll stop.”

“Promise me this was the last time,” He said.

“I promise,” Clarke said. She reached to grab her plate but Bellamy stopped her.

“Then give me the rest of your cigarettes,” he said.

“I don’t have any more,” Clarke said.

“Bullshit,” Bellamy said.

He was right. She had four more at the bottom of her purse.

“I don’t need to give them to you to be able to stop,” Clarke argued.

“It’s a lot easier to quit smoking if you don’t have any cigarettes,” Bellamy countered.

“If I was going to keep on smoking, I could just buy more anyway,” Clarke told him.

It was the wrong thing to say.

“Y’know what, I’m not hungry anyway,” Bellamy said, dumping his plate in the garbage.

“Bellamy-” Clarke started.

“You need to figure what’s important to you,” Bellamy spun around and cut her off, “because I refuse to live like this.”

He stormed out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into the bedroom.

Clarke slid down the wall.

She sat there for at least an hour before slowly standing up, pulling the cigarettes out of her purse, and putting them down outside the bedroom door.


End file.
